Lineage: Mark of Heirs
by Lynn Osburn
Summary: UPDATE! Chapter Five: Loyalty Lies. The final chapter of Mark of Heirs. I've already started the second story.
1. Midnight Sails

Baruk lashed the spice casts tightly about with the rough hemp rope. He grunted in strain as he pulled his weight back and used a hangman's noose to complete the security of their cargo. It was a good haul from the island and he had been paid well to ensure it came through to port. Everything had gone as planned, a miracle for any man who'd seen enough ocean to watch men drown in a squall and fought his way through blood thirsty pirates come for gold or bounty. He patted the wooden barrels and covered them with a tarp to keep the dried vegetables dry. Baruk yelled to the men to get the galley going. It was already dusk.

He looked out at the coast line, admiring the way that the rich colors of the setting sun mingled in the cool black waters of the ocean. Baruk sighed. This was the life. A man's life as could be envied by even the highest of kings. He might never be rich or known a day of leisure, but he alone could say he was contented in his lot.

Everything was as it should be.

He did not hear the boys foot steps fall behind him. For a man who had been taught to keep brave face in the terror of a sea storm, it was embarrassing to be crept up on by a child. He just barely stopped himself from yelping as a light hand touched his shoulder.

"Captain, how long would our voyage be?" The youth said in strong, uncracking tones.

Baruk coughed to cover his fright. "Three weeks. May make two if the weather holds but don't get your hopes up." It was bad luck to assume the best at any crossing. The ocean became angry if you thought to know it's temperament.

The child did not argue as a passenger on a pleasure cruise or business might. He merely nodded his thanks and retreated back to his place at the starboard side, his dark gray eyes looking out towards the horizon.

_Strange one that._ Baruk said and stroked his thick black beard. It was all too often he came across a young lad about this ones age, offering himself up to the hard life as a cabin boy, all for a chance at life as a mariner. He took them on when he had the room, trained the up till their sea legs came ready and found them decent positions on ships. After all he remembered the first day he'd stowed away aboard and earned his passage. But this young lad wasn't like the others. It unsettled him.

He'd been in the harbor almost as soon as they'd docked, waiting calmly with his legs hanging over the pier and looking directly up the prow as they came into dock. His gray eyes matching those of a stormy sky. Flecks of jade green surrounded his pupils and became larger as the lights dimmed. He had waited patiently until Baruk's business had been settled and then came to the captain in his strange foreign costume, looking the much taller man in the face.

"I'd like to barter passage with you." He said firmly, showing no signs of adolescent nervousness or excitement. Baruk had set a passenger fee and they boy did not haggle, merely paid him and boarded with nothing but the cloths on his back.

Baruk stroked his beard again. _Unnatural. _Still, he'd do his best to see the boy arrived safely. Sea travel was rough on a first timer and the child had paid in gold coin. Baruk was a man of his word and his honor. If the kid wanted to go to the Seven Deserts, that was his own business.

The boy left for his cabin a while after cast off, perhaps bored with the dark endlessness of the ocean world at night. The moon had risen and cast a silvery glow over the ship, mist rising on the water as the temperature cooled. The men came out and lighted the oil lamps, a dangerous thing on a transport made of wood. The oil had to be constantly watched and cleaned. Any miss placed drop could mean the death of the entire crew and worse, losing your cargo.

He opened the door to his modest accommodations. Nothing special, bare essentials had been provided. A bed, warm cotton sheets, a privy, and a window were all that made this room known as a place to rest. No candles. You couldn't trust a land lubber to know the dangers of fire on a ship. Besides, with a full moon above them, enough light came in.

Enough to let the boy know he was not alone in the room.

One of the crewmen, a burly fellow by the name of Roark smiled through broken and gold tipped teeth as the child noticed him and closed the door anyhow. "Excuse me sir. I believe your in my apartments." He said in a voice smooth as velvet.

"Oh my what a pretty voice you've on ya child." The man said, lazily picking his teeth with a chicken bone. "And such pretty skin too. Not used to seeing a fine white skinned lad like yourself on the seas."

"No. I suppose tending to hard labor in the bracing sunlight would darken a man's skin." The child spoke without the slightest trace of apprehension. Even his face, aristocratic with just a touch of childishness about it remained impassive to the man's presence.

"Aye but you wouldn't know about hard labor would you boy?" Roark said and stood up, hitching his thumb in his belt and shifting over his gut. "Not with those fine leather cloths you're wearing." He gave a nod to the soft leather jerkin and well tailored trousers the youth wore, each piece fashionably decorated the current fashion. "I'd say you're the son of a nobleman then…perhaps even a prince ling."

For the first time, the young boy's face fell. Not much, no more than a sudden sadness that darkened his iris and made his firm lips frown. "I could not speak on that matter for certain." Was all he said, and Roark began to draw closer to him.

"All hands on deck!" the bell sounded above them, calling the men to attention. Roark sucked back a wad of phlegm and spittle and snorted it down nastily. He looked down at the tall lad. "I'll be back soon." He assured him. "For another talk." He hitched his pants again and stormed out the door up the stairs, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts.

The child did not bolt the door behind him. He walked over to the bed, which was at least mostly clean, and sat down on the hay filled mattress, taking off his boots and top He worse under the jerkin a loose fitted shirt that crossed neatly over his chest on the left side so that only his right sleeve remained, trailing down to his finger tips. The boy wore little jewelry, but what he did own was somewhat prized to him. Bronze and abalone from his native home land, wound in intricate patterns around his wrists and neck made it known that he was not of poor cloth. He had brought gold with him, a gift from his…a gift. But he'd been forced to use most of it to barter passage.

The youth checked his left over cash. He had enough, he hoped, to complete his journey. If not he could always trade or offer himself as a laborer to complete the trip. He had been careful so far, spending only what was absolutely necessary and counting on his own skills to get him this far. And still, had it been so long? The moon was full again, marking the month since he'd begun this idiotic quest.

_What was I thinking?_ The handsome lad wondered. _I have nothing to go on save her stories and…_ he touched his right arm gingerly and tried to remember everything his mother had taught him about his father. _This was a fools errand. I would have faired better to remain at home. We had land, sheep and cattle and farming fields. I had the comfort of the oak groves and the hills. Oh why did I ever leave?_

But the lad's depression was only momentary. It would come upon him every now and then, when he allowed himself too much time to think. And yet no matter how often he wished he'd stayed home, he pushed onward, sometimes nothing but the embarrassment of coming back empty handed like _they_ all expected him to.

_'Your like him in that way. Too proud, too stubborn.'_ His mother had told him. And it was true. The son of a cattle lords daughter with no man willing to claim ownership of his seeds production. It was shameful. And rather than be properly shamed he held his head higher than a king's son and scowled darkly at those who tried to laugh at him. Arrogant some called him, and yet in many ways the boy was also like his mother. He was slow to anger, despite the brooding intensity of his dark eyebrows and hair. Though he sneered at those who thought themselves higher than him, he showed kindness to those he knew were worse off. He smiled easily, his firm lips pulling back into a wide grin when his humor was good. He was a good lad, a strong, happy boy any man should have been proud to father.

And yet no one but his mother claimed him.

Roark fell back in shock, clutching his stomach where the youth had driven a sword through his gut. Blood poured out over his hands and onto the floorboards, soaking through the slats as the ship tossed back and forth in the continuing storm. "You…you little bastard."

"Bastard…" The youth said slowly, as if tasting the word on his white, even teeth. "Yes I suppose that I am. But at least I claim that better than a rapist." He smoothed back his thick, wavy black hair from his face and aimed the sword at Roark's chin. It had been nearly a week since their last meeting, when the crewman's advance had been postponed by the call bell. The boy had not counted on the horrid storm plaguing them to keep the man at bay for long. He'd taken to sleeping with his sword close and his trousers on.

"I'll strangle the life from you whelp!" Roark shouted and felt the blade press to his enlarged Adam's apple.

"Not with your bowels unplugged you won't." The lad challenged. "Now you are not wounded to grievously…yet." He warned and pressed the blade in so that the man was forced to back away. His other hand lay on the hilt of his second matching sword, ready if the man tried something tricky. "So you still have a choice, Wait here until you bleed to death all over my nice room, or leave and lie to the ship physician that you've landed on the edge of a metal wash tub and sliced yourself." He lowered the sword and slid it easily back into his scabbard. "I leave the decision to you."

The ship pitched roughly forward, sending the stack of playing cards on the table toppling over across the floor, the young man and the bleeding one glaring at one another in silence. Roark coughed and felt his chest burn at him for being so stupid. "You're not worth my time runt." He spat and left for the sick bay, groaning about the insolence of the young passenger.

The boy dropped his sword as soon as the door swung shut, face strained in pain. _That was too close!_ He realized, the searing heat in his finger tips working it's way up to his elbow. He clutched at his hidden right arm and took many steadying breaths, perspiration dripping off his face. He was careful not to make a sound of weakness, that would have been disgraceful for one of his heritage. The lad squeezed his fist tight and tried to concentrate on making the urge stop.

Up on deck, the fog lights burned brighter than any oil could provide.

The man gave him a nasty look as they parted ways on the docks of the desert coastline. Ill mannered and crude was Roark to a tee, but stupid not so much. He had left the lad alone after the incident in his quarters and taken out his frustrations on whatever poor sod lay weaker in the bunk next to him.

_Don't worry over things you can't do anything about._ He told himself firmly and gave a nod to the captain before leaving. He'd made use of his time on board and done Baruk a fee odd jobs to earn some of his passage fee back. Tote that down to the cook, clean barnacles off the side, write out receipts of sale. For a man who's living depended on good accounts keeping, Baruk did little more than mark his name on a page and make a little hieroglyph to ensure that general ideas were conveyed. Ah well, at least with the lad's help on reading he'd be sure not to get cheated this time around.

The boy couldn't help but be awestruck by his new surroundings. What place was this? His land was fresh and green and cool as morning dew. This was nothing but sand and heat and smells. The smells, unfamiliar and ranging from the nasty stench of horse sweat to the hungry odor of cook meats and spice. His stomach growled, reminding him that there were better meals than hard tack and gruel on a ships galley. He could afford a little careless coin to the purchase of a decent meal.

_Ah._ He thought as he asked a man with kabobs of steaming meat hanging from his cart how much. _Language barrier._ He tried an embarrassed smile but the harsh fellow only looked at him from under a thick brown unibrow and began yelling at him angrily in a loud and complicated tongue. "Eh…sorry. You'll forgive me." He tried to back away, fumbling for what little he knew of Farsi, and his purse strings accidentally caught on a loose board, pulling it open a little.

The man's abrupt manner changed almost immediately. He smiled and began speaking in a much slower, more congenial fashion. The boy sighed. The clink of coin and the shine of gold translated easily enough. After a great deal of gesturing he managed to procure what tasted like chicken skewered along with local vegetables and roasted over open coals. The meal had been sweetened with honey and chives and warmed his belly considerably after the nasty fare of the sea.

With a good meal, one's mood also greatly improves. He allowed himself the time to take in the sights and sounds of the market place, enjoying the exotics he had never laid eyes on. He was hardly aware that they were taking just as much notice of him. From his moon pale skin to his strangely decorated garment, the citizens of the desert town frowned and arched their brows at the tall, lanky lad in their midst.

But even amidst all the hustle and bustle and assorted commotion, one thing heightened his sense of enjoyment.

_'He came from the desert, your father.'_ She'd said, coughing dangerously as her condition got worse. He held her soft, mother strong hands and begged her not to strain herself with speech. But she'd laid a firm finger to her sons lips and continued. _'He promised to take me there with him some day.'_ She shook her head._ 'I was younger then, and eager. I believed him. Ah but for the naive folly of youth. But do not bare hatred against your own father.'_ His mother must have seen the look on his face through her warm green eyes. _'Even now I look back and know…it…was…worthwhile.'_

The desert. His goal for nearly three month time now. And he was finally here.

But as the day began to wind down, the youth began to realize a mistake in his misadventure. He looked beyond the cities wall and his wide eyes grew larger to see the vast emptiness of the dunes. Nothing but sand as golden as a wheat field. He saw not a tree or lake or house beyond the farming populace near the river. All those endless leagues of sand and his father lost among them.

A sense of hopelessness began to sink in again.


	2. Fire and Ash

Mozenrath chuckled lightly, turning the staff in his hands. The light of his hovering candles caught the intense reddish orange sheen. The young necromancer held out his hand to stroke his eel, running his fingers over Xerxes fins. "Isn't it beautiful Xerxes." He said absently, acknowledging the eel only out of habit. "The Ozai Staff, the Staff of the Fire Lord." He turned it about in his hands, pleased with the humm of warm power trapped within cold metal.

"You know it took a lot of convincing to obtain this little gem." He smirked, amused at his own joke. "I dare say the current Fire Lord was quite unwilling to part with it."

"Mozenrath convincing!' the dark gray eel hissed in it's crude imitation of a laugh and flipped in the air once or twice to show it's jubilation at it's masters good mood.

"Be quiet Xerxes." Mozenrath snapped and the familiar whimpered, sinking to the throne. The necromancer smiled at the staff, watching his reflection in it's custom handle. He was a collector of well endowed magical items, you never knew when something could come in useful for say…taking over a kingdom. Or perhaps turning a certain street rat into a charcoal briquette.

He laughed, reclining on his dark throne to admire the sharp, war like decoration of the staff. He was not lying when he said the current Fire Lord was most unwilling to hand over his father's staff. Seemed to think it would release a power no 'bender' could possibly handle. Whatever that meant. At any rate, fighting through a battalion of angry, flame wielding soldiers and one young upstart of an emperor had not done much to improve Mozenrath's disposition.

"But perhaps…setting a few fires might liven tonight up eh Xerxes?" He grinned sadistically as the eel joined him in laughter. "Perhaps a quick test run before we are kind enough to share our gift with Agrabah's citizen's?" He looked over his shoulder at his familiar, the little flying beast nodding excitedly.

He looked around the throne room, trying to find something in the dilapidated Citadel that was not either precious or prone to explosion. Not a short list. Mozenrath's expressive steel iris's landed finally on a mamluck. The mold covered undead was dragging his feet down the corridor, going to perform one of the many mindless duties his creator had given him. Mozenrath gripped the handle of the staff with his gauntlet and flipped his cape back to perfect his aim. As the black, deadly force of his own magic surged into the staff, it reacted with it's own display of violent red energy, clashing with the gauntlet's power.

Mozenrath pulled back a little, letting the angry heat die down. He frowned, his lip curling to show a canine tooth longer than any humans should be. "Stubborn tool." He said and began to stretch his power across the metal. He took it slower this time, feeling the harsh glow of the Ozai staff recoil and then charge against his attempts at control. Fire combusted in the air around him, singing Xerxes scales as the eel shrieked and took cover. "Coward." Mozenrath sneered at him and turned his attention back to the staff.

Inch by inch he conquered it, his own fierce black flames consuming and intensifying with the power of the staff. The backlash of energy ripples through and sent his hair tossing back, flinging off his turban. Mozenrath laughed, loud and clear and turned his new found power on the mamluck.

Weather the undead can feel pain or not in unclear. One can only hope that the and sound of rotted flesh sizzleing off bone is unattached to nerve or sensation. It's better to think of it that way. And better not to contemplate the controlled fire it would take to burn bone to ash.

He bought a room at a cheap inn. He probably should have saved his money. Who knew how long this would take now that he'd hit a stumbling point. The young boy smacked his head against the wall, gritting his teeth as the hard stone whacked his brain. _Stupid stupid stupid. _He waited until it actually began to hurt before sitting down on the balcony and taking out his sword for cleaning.

It was a fine blade, one of the few given to him by his grandfather. The old man had not been a father figure to him, much as he had wanted. Had he been able to get past his daughter's indiscretion, he might have even found some paternal affection towards the young, determined child. The boy was everything a man could hope for in his children. He learned much quicker than the other brats, taking whatever task he was set to and perfecting it in a matter of days. He did everything he could to win his grandfather's approval. He learned weapons proficiency with the same sword the old man had been famous with in his day. The boy had learned archery and hunting, histories and the great bardic legacies that their culture was built upon.

And yet the most his grandiose efforts had earned him was a grunt of undeterminable origin. Rebuffed, the child had looked for father figures in other places. In the warrior halls, where he was tolerated with the same basic attention any other child might receive. Even praised, sometimes, when no one of importance was looking. Because he was so eager to learn, the clan even overlooked his little…oddities. He was a fine boy, promised to be a fine man. If only he had a father to make sure of that.

But no love. Only his mother, who's kindness, patience, and wisdom had seem him through the times before he knew his own strength. Back when the other children taunted him and threw rocks at the village bastard. She had cleaned his wounds and told him strange stories. Tales unfamiliar to their clan about a dark man of power and a young lady of strength. He could barely remember the stories now, but they had installed him with a sense of purpose. When he became older and looked back on those wind hill nights, the dark man was given a face that was almost like his. Pale as moon light and teeming with intelligent design.

The youth watched as the sun began to shine over the palace domes. He squinted and shielded his eyes, unused to the glare here. Already his light skin was suffering from the heat and exposure. At first it had just been freckles, popping up like little dots of fire on his skin. And now that had given way to long red patches along his shoulders, back, and face. It burned like mad whenever he touched it. He'd taken to putting on a hat whenever he went out.

Again he wandered the market place, head down, contemplating what to do next. Trying to remember any details from his mother's stories or things he might not have noticed at the time that could prove useful now.

Then he snapped his fingers in remembrance.

From inside his jerking, he lifted out a small necklace. It was nothing fancy, hardly more than a gold chain with a small perfume vial at the bottle. He had not seen it until…that day, among her belongings. And yet somehow he knew it had been a gift from his father to his mother. It gave no clue as to name, only filled half way with a strange, gritty black substance. It looked like sand, but one couldn't be entirely sure.

_Black sand. _The boy mused and smiled a little, hiding the necklace again. Well, that was one piece of the puzzle…

He stopped short as he hit someone in the chest and blushed to realize the young man was looking down at him in a friendly way. He grinned shyly, realizing he had been spoke to and so wrapped up in his own thoughts he'd ignored it. "Umm…hello." He said when the rakishly good looking man spoke to him in Farsi once more.

The swarthy fellow tilted his head in good humor and reached out his hand to help the boy up. The boy was astonished to see a monkey in a vest on one shoulder and a brightly colored macaw on the other. He only knew the bird because there had been one at his clan's holdings. A beast bought from traders and tamed by none other than the bard. He backed up a little, remembering the many painful bites he'd received by that nasty curved beak.

The man spoke to him again, his tone going up to indicate a question. "Erm… uh…one moment…" he shook his head, willing himself to remember his lessons. He spoke, hesitantly at first, trying to determine if what he was saying was good or bad.

The man seemed to understand and slowed his speech a bit. "Your awfully far south then." He answered. "Whats a kid like you doing so far from home?"

He took a minuet to process it, then answered. "I'm searching for…family." He said finally, moving his hat back a little to see the adult fully. He was of average height, stocky but well built and quite handsome. His face had the open friendliness of an honest, if clever man and when he smiled the boy felt compelled to smile back. Which he did.

"Really? You certainly don't look like you're from around here?" The man said and looked around at the poor and middle class. The kids outfit did not fit in here. Not just in style but in cut and lass. The man raised a thick eyebrow and said something to his monkey as if the thing could understand him.

The child backed away a step. "Ah well. I've been told my father's side is quite unusual." The man was shading his eyes and squinting as if he couldn't see the kid properly. It was noon, the sun so high it left a haze of heat over everything. "Damn." He said and took off his hat, fanning himself with it. "Is it always this hot here?"

"That's the deserts for you." The man gave another brilliant smile. "My name is Aladdin. This is Abu and Iago." He pointed to his pets who, to the boys surprise, began to talk. Well the parrot talked, the monkey jabbered animatedly. "Maybe we can help you. I've gotten to know some unusual people in my line."

The youth smiled, the frowned, lightly fingering his purse. "I'm…afraid I can't pay much for a guide."

Aladdin laughed and put a friendly hand on the kids shoulder. "Did I mention money?" The boy could be sure, but he could swear he heard the parrot mutter. 'No you didn't but maybe you should.' He turned just in time to see the little ape smack the bird off Aladdin's shoulder. He must have sensed the apprehension still, because he drew back a little. "Look, I promise I'm not going to steal from you or anything, alright. But I can also promise I know this town. If you have family here, they can't be that hard to find."

The boy considered, hand's at his belt. He had brought his sword. If this man tried anything funny or suspicious, he was prepared. "Very well. I would be most appreciative." He said and gathered himself up.

Aladdin laughed lightly at the kids haughtiness. He had a pretty good idea what was going on. The child had to be foreign nobility of some kind. Probably gotten lost from his parents on an ambassador mission to the palace and was too embarrassed to ask for help. Let the little brat act uppity if it keeps him secure. If this was a nobles child, then it would be enough to find his parent's and get him back to them. "Come on then. Let's try the palace." He said and extended his hand in a trusting manner.

The smell of something burning hit before the black fumes of smoke flashed through the alley way. A blood curdling scream echoed through the air and citizens began a mass panic. "What the…" Aladdin raised his head towards the smoke, looking past it for the cause of the damage. "It never ends does it guys?" he said in good humor as the parrot made a sharp retort in such rancorous patterns the kid could not understand.

"Carpet! Here kid, you come with me." He didn't wait for permission but swooped the child up into his arms and onto…of all things!...a flying piece of fabric! The carpet flew up into the air, soaring above the building's with astonishing speed and versatility, keeping all it's passengers on board.

The child looked at Aladdin with renewed eyes. "Your not just some street man are you?" he said in clear Farsi and Aladdin laughed richly.

"Look, I'll drop you off with my wife at the palace. I don't want you getting into any danger alright?" Aladdin said hastily and headed for the walled off home of the royal blood. As he landed, a curvy young woman with long, flowing black hair came up to greet him, dressed in light blue pantaloons and a _very_ showy top. He actually blushed as she bounced a little, looking with the same fascination any nearly pubescent boy would have for the female bosom.

"Aladdin." She said and drew a long dagger from her belt. "It's Mozenrath, he's on the west side, down in the thieves district." She said directly and pointed towards the high blaze. One might not thinking that the thieves district would be such a loss. But there was something else to consider. While much of Agrabah's populace lived in houses made of brick and mortar, the slums and poverty stricken sections had used mostly dry wood for their homes and hovels. A small blaze, out of control with that much fuel could decimate the city if it got out of control.

And Mozenrath was certain to help it along it's way.

"Aladdin…" Jasmine drawled, suddenly noticing the young boy staring at her. She looked questioningly up at her husband.

"Just look after him for now okay. He's lost his family." Aladdin said and hopped back aboard his flying upholstery, taking off into the sky after the figure at the center of the blaze.

Mozenrath watched in distinct sadistic pleasure as the town rose in a maelstrom of fire and ash. In his right hand he held the Ozai staff, his own dark black fire merged intricately with it's fierce red orange tendrils. Xerxes floated high above him, afraid both of the intense heat and his master's current disregard for any and all life forms. He yelped and climbed higher as the flames licked along his tail.

Mozenrath turned the staff in his hands, allowing the fires to play across his frame for dramatic appeal. He laughed and from the corner of his eye, spotted the burly captain of the guards. The overly testosterones man was trying to help one of his obese companions out from under a pile of burning ruble. "Now that won't due at all." Mozenrath said and floated lower on a cloud of thick soot. "Can't have any potential rebellion starters lurking around after the conquest." He smiled with a mad light in his eyes and aimed his staff at the two guards, power reaching for them.

"Master! Master!" Xerxes called from the sky above. "Aladdin comes!"

"What?" The young necromancer turned and smirked to see his old nemesis coming in fort a dive attack. "Well well if it isn't Agrabah's default protection." He spun with the Ozai staff and flung his new power in the air after them. Massive balls of burning air launched in the direction of the heroes, exploding around them and igniting the air.

"Carpet watch out!" Aladdin hollered as his woven friends tried to avoid the air bombs. They dodged to and fro, just barely cutting their direction before another fiery assault landed where they had just been. Aladdin grinned in triumph and yelled down mockingly. "Gah Moze! Ever hear of target practice!"

"What do you think this is Aladdin?" Mozenrath let the power fly erratically, sending out a sprawl of fiery sphere in Aladdin's direction. The hero tried to avoid, but the shot caught the tail end of the carpet. "That's the problem with fabric friends…" Mozenrath said as he began to approach the crashing protagonist. "…not exactly the most durable of companions."

Xerxes came down a little closer, not wanting to miss out on his masters glory moment. "Burn faster, cheaper, hotter!" he mocked and gave a snarling laugh. Mozenrath smiled and directed the Ozai staff at Aladdin on the ground.

"Aladdin…" he said, gesturing to the wide brown eyes looking up at him. "Your doom." He pointed to his weapon. "Doom, Aladdin." He practically tasted the last word, savoring it on his lips as the power charged around him again, hungry for more to consume.

"You are queen here yes?" the youth asked Jasmine as she rushed through the city way, directing people with buckets and tubs of water to put throw on the fire.

"I am." She said hurriedly and tossed a bucket to the child. "Quickly, go to the well and bring more water down." She said and pointed to the stone well in the town square. "Now!' she snapped sharply and smacked his behind when they boy looked at the bucket strangely. He jumped as if he hadn't understood her till now and ran back and forth quickly, carrying whatever could hold liquid to douse the flames.

"That man, Aladdin, he is your husband?" He asked and again the princess nodded a quick yes, not precisely ignoring him, just very very distracted what with her city being in flames and all. The child on the other hand, did not seem to notice. He continued helping, if only for the purpose to ask more questions.

"Hurry child!" Jasmine answered as they finally managed to quell a flame. There was still much further to go. The sun was doused by the smoke, it's heat was nothing compared to that of the building's still on fire. People came running from the buildings, some well enough to survive, others…

Others would lay on the ground, their bodies blackened and smelling of burnt meat. She held her stomach and turned away. What good would mourning the dead do when there were still living who might be saved. "You!" she pointed to someone trying to smother a flame. "Go, tend to the burned. Get them to safety." She threw her hair back, her clothing mud and soot stained beyond repair. "Oh of all the times of Genie and Eden to be on a date!"

Genie and Eden giggled, transforming their bulbous and balloon like bodies into flat, paperish material. "Oh this is going to tickle!" Eden laughed as Genie turned on the machine and began to feed her through it. She squealed as the paper shredder began to 'cut' through her like tissue paper, creating no pain for the immortal djinn. Rather a pleasant, euphoric feeling of having fingers drawn up and down her back. The couple laughed joyously, continuing their fun.

Aladdin grabbed Carpet and rolled out of the way, the fire hitting the sand with such intensity a patch of glass was created in the ground. "Mozenrath! You evil…" he was forced to run before launching insult, ducking behind a stone pillar as the flames beat higher around the sides.

The harsh, cruel laugher rang even beyond the roar of the fire.

"What is that thing?" Aladdin tried to get a look at the staff, but the moment his face appeared, the sorcerer would throw the blaze higher, trying to burn the street rat's skin with his magic. "Iago?" he said, looking at his reliable source of magical information.

"Oh what?" the parrot squawked. "Like I just have The Pyromaniac's Wet Dream Encyclopedia in my back pocket?" The scarlet bird yelped and flew up out of reach as Aladdin tried to strangle him. "Okay okay give a bird a minuet!" he said and waited till Mozenraths attention was on Aladdin. "Hummm…red metal, black binding, lots a pointy décor in the shape of flames. Oh yeah that's the staff of Ozai."

"Of who?" Aladdin said as Mozenrath came around the corner, leaving a charred black stain on the wall where Aladdin had been hiding.

"Oh come now Aladdin." He said, chasing the street rat deeper into the inferno city. "Your running from fire into fire? Not exactly the brightest gem in the sultan's treasure are you?" He caught sight of a shadow and spun, sending a human figure up in flames. He frowned. The height wasn't right. It wasn't Aladdin.

The hero of Agrabah hid behind the wall of a building, his lungs choking with the ash as he tried to get more information out of Iago. "Who was Ozai?" he questioned quickly and quietly as the figure of Mozenrath crossed behind the curtained window. "The quick version." He demanded as the macaw opened his mouth.

"Big, nasty guy. Ruled a place called, get this, The Fire Nation.. Real original concept lemmie tell you. I mean a nation where about fifty percent of the populace can manipulate fire and what do you name it…okay okay!" Iago relented as his friend glared at him. "Basically he over did it and his own son dethroned him along with the help of some others. A couple teens from the north pole and a freaky twelve year old with blue tattoos. Any who…" he continued. "Enraged with his defeat, Ozai entrapped all his fire manipulating ability, even his soul, into a staff that had been passed down for generations in his family line. Some even say his soul is in there."

"Alright." Said Aladdin, feeling a thin ray of hope. "So how do we defeat it?" Iago went silent and turned, if it was possible, a deeper shade of scarlet. "Iago…" he said in a warning tone.

"How should I know! The original prince could only do it with the help of some Avatar. GWARK!" Iago screeched as a blast of soot and air hit him across the chest, sending the parrot back in to the far wall. Aladdin spun to see Mozenrath calmly rubbing one of the flame like prongs on the end.

"Annoying things, parrots." Mozenrath commented nonchalantly, arching his elegant brow. "They never know how to keep their voice down." He charged his staff, letting the black flames encircle the building.


	3. Ill Recieved

"Who is doing this?" Jasmine heard the youth's voice at her back. They had finally managed to contain the fire to the crooks district, where surely Aladdin and Mozenrath were still battling. "Do you get attacked like this on a frequent basis?" he said, astonished when the princess nodded her head.

She was not too worried about Aladdin yet. After all, if the sorcerer had destroyed him, he would have already spread out to obliterate the rest of the city by now. Jasmine hoped that meant her beloved was still alive. She turned towards the young boy, still covered in dust and thick black soot. She took a wash cloth and handed it to him, helping the child rub the dirt off his face despite his protests. Once she could define his features, Jasmine was stuck by him. He was a sweet faced child, the kind that would change from soft features to a stronger, more masculine jaw once he went through puberty. She estimated him for about twelve or thirteen, just on the cusp of adolescence.

And yet, there was something familiar. In the arch of his eyes and the thick, wavy black locks of his hair. "You said you were trying to find your parents?" she asked and he nodded. "What is your name?" she asked inquisitively.

He opened his mouth to answer, and a great explosion shook the ground beneath them.

From the core of the blaze, a great mushroom like cloud rose, creating a tornado of fire and debris. Jasmine stood in horror, covering her mouth with her hands to see a blanket of smoke cover a fourth of her city. The child stood beside her, mouth agape as he took in the sight of it.

"Who would do this?" he whispered. "Who would attack in such a cowardly fashion?" He spoke as if the blood and death and fire did not impress him. As if his disgust was at the person responsible because they involved dirty tactics and mindless destruction. _Who would involve citizen in their war instead an honorable fight against prepared warriors?_

As if in answer, a single cloud rose from the center, two men on it's head. Mozenrath approached the palace and it's princess, his staff brandished lightly in one hand, an unconscious Aladdin in the other. He smirked at Jasmine ruthlessly and casually kicked Aladdin down at her feet, pointing the Ozai staff at the pair. He took no notice of the dirt marked youth standing near. He did not notice the recognition in the boys eyes as he beheld a face that had appeared to him before only in a mirror.

Mozenrath stepped down off his black cloud and the survivors of the blaze scattered before him, crying out in fear. But their suffering had just been amusement to the sorcerer. His real goal was within sight, he paid them no heed. Aladdin opened his eyes to see the blazing tip of the staff pointed at both him and his wife and tried to rise despite obvious injury.

"Mozenrath…you…desert…jackal!" Aladdin gasped, his eyes glaring up at the young wizard in loathing.

He snorted, a single mocking note of amusement. "Ah Aladdin…you know, I probably should have prepared a witty comeback for this moment. But in an effort to learn from past mistakes…" he blazed the energy high, the fire licking at his face without harming him. "Good bye Aladdin."

A sudden poof of blue and green in perfect sequence and Genie and Eden appeared in the yard. "And now we return to humble little Agrabohhhh Staff of Ozai!" The djinn said, ignoring the burnt rubble and Mozenrath as he pointed to the staff. "Very nice, bet cha bid top dollar on eBay." Genie screamed in shock as he realized who he was talking to.

A sword, perfectly edged and sharp as a sharks tooth cut through with sudden force at Mozenrath's throat from his left side, the blade pinned with delicate precision against his clavicle. A voice, firm and much too young to be wielding a blade had spoken, and the necromancer, astounded and admittedly confused, turned his head enough to see his sneak attacker.

It took an instant, but Mozenrath's eyebrows suddenly hit his hair line.

"Hello father." The boy said and swung his fist forward, landing it with surprising strength against the taller adult's cheek.

"Bllleargh! How in the world did the wiz kid get a hold of that?" Genie said as he began to take the red flaming staff. "Geez. Betcha Zuzu will be happy to get this back." He snapped and the Ozai staff disappeared in a puff of flagrant pink smoke.

Iago scoffed, combing through a table of maps. "You know I'm having a problem here Genie. I know all about the back story but where the heck is this Fire Nation?" the macaw held up a map of the world in one wing. "An empire that big you'd think would be colored in with red crayola or something." He looked accusingly at the blue djinn.

Genie drummed his fingers and shifted his eyes from side to side. "Well…uh…ya see now about that particular cross over…"

"And another thing, if Zuzu was so powerful as to crack his own daddies back, how'd Mozenrath defeat him in the first place?" Iago asked, his beak snapping with firm decision.

"Yeah…hehe…funny story…arrrrrrrgh!" The djinn suddenly grabbed his skull as if in incredible pain. "Plot Hole Demons! Plot Hole Demons eating my brain! ARRRRRRRGH!" he let steam out his ears and went running down the hall, the scarlet macaw chasing him down for answers.

The boy sat in front of Aladdin and Jasmine, his hands crossed in his lap with his back straight. "I suppose I owe a great deal of explanation. The only problem is that I lack the knowledge to give sufficient detail." The poor youth looked caught between shame and apology. As if the faults of Mozenrath were his to make up for.

"Let's begin slowly then." Said Aladdin, stern, but at the same time very concerned for the boys well being. Now that he had a good chance to see the kid, the resemblance between him and Mozenrath were too obvious. Extremely pale skin, flattering ebony hair, same tall, lanky build. But it went beyond the physical somehow. There was something just so…alike. "What's your name kid?" he asked.

The boy sat up straight, as if he were about to convey some great message. "I am Tynan, son of Deirdre mac Cullen of the Cullen clan holdings in Eire."

"From Eire hey?" Iago whistled, having returned just in time to here the child's speech. "Boy that Moze sure does get around." He was delivered a scathing look by all in the room and snapped his beak shut.

"Alright Tynan." Jasmine said. "It's alright. This isn't an inquiry." She laid a comforting hand on his knee and smiled. "Now, how did you get to Agrabah?"

"I bartered passage." Tynan said. "It took me a while. Sometimes I had to stop and work for a while to make up enough money." He showed off his jewelry. "I managed to keep most of my mother's gifts. They are not things meant to be sold."

"Ah, your mother. Where is your mother right now Tynan? Did she come with you?" In spite of the resemblance, Jasmine clung to her doubts. If the woman was somewhere in Agrabah, having come with her child, perhaps they could solve this whole problem right now. Surely the woman would take one look at Mozenrath and assure them that this was not the man who fathered such a noble little boy!

"My mother…the lady Deirdre…" The young man stopped and closed his eyes, gathering his strength. "She has passed on into the Otherworld. She is no longer among the living." He said and forced himself to straighten again.

"Oh." Jasmine lowered her head. "I'm so sorry Tynan." She moved a stray curl from the child's face.

"If your mother has passed, how do you know Mozenrath is your father?" Said Aladdin when the time felt right. "Have you ever seen him before?"

Tynan shook his head in a no. "I have only stories from my mother to go on, and of course my appearance. She said our resemblance would be uncanny."

"That's one word for it. Another would be freaky." Iago's words were snuffed out with a boot rammed into his beak by an aggressive Genie.

"But then it might not be true." Aladdin said, trying to be upbeat. "I admit you two are…" he gestured to Tynan. "Similar, but I heard all the people of Erin are pale and lean. Isn't there anything else, something that could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt?" Aladdin put his hand on Tynan's shoulder and look him in the eyes. His gray and green eyes with an all too familiar shine of tricky wit in them.

Tynan gripped his right arm compulsively. "There is one thing…but I won't show it to anyone but him." He saw the doubt on the adult's faces and repeated himself more forcefully. "No one but him! I wouldn't be able to live with the humiliation otherwise." He said and asked to be taken to Mozenrath's cell. Genie had taken advantage of Mozenrath's shock to subdue him and transport the dangerous man into a magic proof cell in the dungeons.

The boy didn't need to go through all the trouble. Both Aladdin and Jasmine knew, when the child took hold of his own right arm, that there was no denying the truth. With a single look at one another they agreed that this could not be kept from the boy. It would be better for him to find out know then spend the rest of his life endlessly searching and not knowing.

The two males eyed one another suspiciously, man and boy, searching for something unobvious in the face or body. Something to give away a sign of real family ties.

Tynan looked at his fath…_no…no not yet. Wait and see before you say that word._ His mind warned him as the heavy wooden door closed behind him. He jumped a little at the sound and stepped forward. The man before him looked arrogant, cold, even chained to the wall and covered in dirt he looked decidedly…deadly. Tynan felt a shiver of fear in his body and yet his feet refused to stop moving forward. He paused about two feet away, looking into the man's eyes and seeing his own reflection.

"Who are you?" he said bravely. He would not could not back down now.

"Who are you to ask brat?" Mozenrath said sharply, his own senses coming back to him now. He mistrusted everything. Especially the convenient placement of someone who appearance reminded him of a young self. In his own mind, Mozenrath had already convinced himself that this was a ruse by Aladdin and his pet djinn. Though to what purpose he couldn't see.

"I am Tynan, son of…son of my mother." He said, unwilling to say her name to this man. In _his_ mind, Tynan had convinced himself that there was nothing of this murdering coward in him. This, shallow, arrogant creature could not be his father. "A man of the clan Cullen in Eire." He said proudly, sticking out his chest to make himself look stronger.

"And who was your mother in this clan, hum?" Mozenrath asked skeptically, annoyed by this child's bragging. "The town whore perhaps? Or just another cattle herders daughter with open thighs."

He felt like his chest was going to explode. "You shut your mouth about her!" Tynan launched at Mozenrath and reached for his collar. "You didn't know her, you couldn't possibly know her!" _This man is not my father! _He reassured himself. _This man can not possibly be my father. _He willed himself to believe it as Mozenrath looked at his right hand.

Tynan backed away. "What are you staring at?" he said, unaware that his stance was almost exactly like Mozenrath's when he felt vulnerable. He felt as though those keen, cold eyes were staring through the cloth and under the wrappings he had used to cover his 'oddity'. "I said what are you staring at?"

"Your arm." Mozenrath said, all trace of anger gone from his voice. "Your right arm, you don't grip with it as strongly as your left." The sorcerer sighed and relaxed a little in his chains. "You've probably spent your whole small life hiding that haven't you? Trying to make it look like you had two perfect limbs so nobody poked fun?"

"You don't know anything about me." Tynan professed and turned for the door, ready to leave this man to whatever fate became him. He reached for the knob and heard a quiet laughter.

"Hey, Ty." Mozenrath said and waited till the kid turned around. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He lifted the opening of his gauntlet just enough for a white flash to be seen.

The poor child felt his heart sink as the sorcerer removed his glove, quite possibly the only time he had ever willingly done so. The action was difficult, seeing as how he'd been manacled to the ceiling by the wrists, and yet he managed it, not looking once at the boy now slowly sinking against the wall.

Bone. Perfect, bleached digits of a human hand, curved almost artistically to catch the rays of the evening sun and be colored crimson by them. _It looks like his hands are covered in blood. _Tynan thought bitterly and unwound the wrapping's on his own hand. Mozenrath watched, his expression unreadable, even as he stared at the twelve year old kid unwrapping his dark secret as though it pained him to do so.

Tynan looked down at his own skeletal hand and buried his face in his knees, sobbing quietly, as the necromancer he'd just met looked on.

"My name is Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of the Black Sand." He said and let Tynan take a moment to realize this. "Your mother was the Lady Deirdre, and you were raised in the clan holdings, just south of Ulster, near a glen of black pine and a brook that ran with fresh sweet water." Mozenrath paused, smiling, just the faintest flicker at the side of his lips. "Am I right?"

Tynan curled into a ball on the floor and wept.


	4. Sins of the Water

"He is a dangerous criminal, one that has eluded our capture too many times."

The council nodded in agreement. One of the advisors stood, next to the sultan, to speak his peace. "Mozenrath is too great a threat to allow him life now, while we are capable of ridding him from this world once and for all."

Aladdin surprised himself by nodded as well. He might not have, had things gone different in the dungeons. In perhaps Mozenrath had shown some care for the boy, some kind of paternal instinct. But when he had opened those doors and the youth came out, red eyes and attempting to contain tears, it had set the ex- street rats mind on a single course. Father or no, Mozenrath was still a criminal, he had to be tried and sentenced for his crimes. A list that was by far too long to go over in it's entirety.

Jasmine too, was in agreement, though not as whole heartedly as the rest of the members. "My question has not to do with Mozenrath, that matter has been laid to rest." She looked each of them in turn. "But what about the child? What of Tynan?"

"What of him?" snorted a councilmen. "The boy is indeed the son of the wizard but has had no meeting with him until now, no knowledge of his fathers past and sordid business. I see no reason why the child should be of any concern whatsoever."

"I disagree. The boy came here with all hopes of finding his father, more importantly, his family. He is alone in this world, alone and ashamed. Surely we could find a place for him here…"

"The spawn of Mozenrath, left to run amok in the palace!" there was an uproar, loud and echoing in the halls at this suggestion. No more than two seemed willing to listen to Jasmine's statement, and those two were her own father and husband.

"Outrage!"

"Atrocity!"

"Ludicrous!"

"I see my future is to be discussed without me?"

Everything froze in an instant, all eyes turning towards the side door where Tynan had entered. He still looked shaken, though a bath and change of cloths had done wonders for the boy. His sun burn had begun to peel, and his freckles had reappeared, giving the boy a childish look of innocence about him.

"I do not pretend to misunderstand your discomfort." He spoke, ignoring protocol. If any one else had walked into a private council session, interrupted the royal house hold, and spoken with no permission, the punishment would have been drastic. Yet Tynan showed no concern for the looks of shock and offense on their council members faces. In fact he ignored them completely, focusing only on the Sultan, princess, and Aladdin.

"Given the nature of my…father…I can sympathies with your decision. I will not pretend that I have any sway in your decision to execute him, or am I remiss in your eventual intentions towards the sorcerer Mozenrath?" There was a stony silence, though Aladdin would not look him in the eyes, and Jasmine only with pity. "That is you will then. I will not attempt to contend with it. Princess Jasmine, though I thank you greatly for your concern, I am not entirely without family in this world. I am of the Cullen clan in my homeland. I can always return there and take over the holding when my grandfather passes. I have no uncles, and no older male cousins, so it will come to me."

The council, though beside themselves with offense, were impressed by the young man's speech. He seemed to put true consideration into each word, holding his audience with a captivating voice.

"However, I ask only one thing, and this I ask knowing I have no right." Tynan now locked eyes with the Sultan, his green hues growing larger with focus. "I ask that you give Mozenrath one week. Only one. I have traveled so far, and waited so long to know who sired me. Since I have discovered Mozenrath to be my father, I must submit myself to this knowledge in the hopes of learning something from him." He held his right arm, looking down at the fingertips now re bandaged. "I have many things I feel I have a right to know."

There was a moment where no one so much as coughed. It was as if the entire group was compelled to respect his words until he gave them permission to speak. With sudden, uncharacteristic submissiveness, Tynan lowered his eyes and the room seemed to come alive with argument.

The Sultan of Agrabah stood up and silenced his lesser. "My dear boy, Tynan is it? Yes yes." He nodded when Tynan answered. "I appreciate, that you choice to come to the council with this. Indeed, I can admire your reasoning behind it. But what you are not able to understand through no fault of your own, is the manner that your father…"

"Please, I would prefer he be called Mozenrath." Tynan said, breaking yet another protocol about interrupting a Sultan.

But the old man nodded in sympathy. "That Mozenrath is a man that does not deserve your pity, or your mercy, no matter how well intentioned. He had endangered and indeed taken the lives of the people of my kingdom countless times. His continuance to live, no matter how brief, is all the opportunity your fath…erhumph…Mozenrath, would need to escape." The Sultan fixed the boy with a very strict gaze. Jasmine recognized it from her youth, the look of a man who means business. "A week is completely out of the question, however;" He looked at Aladdin and Jasmine. "I heard that you assisted in the capture of the sorcerer as well as lent a hand to quelling the fires in our city." Tynan nodded. "Very well then. In light of that, I will permit you till dawn tomorrow, at which time Mozenrath will be taken for his…" he hesitated to say the word execution in front of so young a lad. True, the boy had only met his father last evening, but blood ties are a strange thing. They can make you do and act in ways you would never consider otherwise. "You will be under watch and guard, not only to ensure Mozenrath's containment but for your own security."

"I understand." Tynan bowed as graciously as he could muster and looked up again. "Please, your majesty, may I see my fath…Mozenrath now?"

The Sultan nodded to Aladdin. "Aladdin will accompany you. And child, bare this in mind for what comfort it may offer. We do not choose our parents any more than they choose us, so do not allow their past mistakes to reflect poorly on you." He turned to Aladdin and whispered quietly "Accompany him, keep the boy safe, but be sure…"

"I'll keep things secure your highness." Aladdin said and walked over to Tynan. "I'm sorry it had to be this way for you." He said as they left the council room. "It was very brave of you to walk into the council hall like that. Also very arrogant."

"It is one in the same. My mother was a strong woman. When her father fell ill in his younger years, she took over Cullen holdings until he recovered. People said she was mad and out of line, especially at her age, but I am told that's the type of woman she was. Strong, passionate, at times to the point of recklessness." Tynan looked up at the rich tapestries of the palace ceiling. "It's odd, but all I can remember of her is a quiet, gentle woman who liked to sit in the shade and watch others dance and sing. She always smiled though, like she knew a secret."

His brow furrowed suddenly in thought and Aladdin was taken aback by how much he his emotions came through with the same dark appearance. He recovered quickly and tried to enter the conversation again. "Deirdre, it's a beautiful name." he said and Tynan smiled a little.

"She was named for one of our older legends. It's a sad tale about a woman who runs off with the man she loves. But when the man she is sworn in marry takes her back and kills her lover, she throws herself from the chariot and smashes her skull on a rock." He smirked at Aladdin's twitching eyebrow. "It has a happy ending. A druid buries her beside her lovers body, and in the spring, two different trees, a yew and ash, grow up from the ground so close they twist around one another like lovers.

"What about Tynan?" Aladdin said, eager to switch subject. "What does your name mean?"

The boys smile grew larger and much more mischievous. "Dark."

Aladdin stood outside the wooden door, wanting to give them privacy without loosing site of the boy. Who knew what that snake Mozenrath might do, even to his own child, when death was close at hand.

Odd things traveled the heroes mind as he watched the two talk in lowered voices. What manner of man was Mozenrath, when all was said and done? Had he loved Tynan's mother Deirdre? It was strange to think a man like that sorcerer might be capable of love. Did he at least have some care for the woman, and if not, was it no more than a night of passing relief?

Aladdin put his head to his hand and rested it there, tried from the earlier battle. Mozenrath had been at the top of his game. Aladdin had been burned pretty badly along his left side, his thick eye brows singed off and several bruises that felt worse than they really were. More cuts, small and large, than he could count. But for now he was doing already. Well bandaged and medicated so that the pain was bearable. He'd need several good days rest after this to recover. If he could just keep people from attacking for a little while…

Mozenrath eyed the boy suspiciously. Dispite the proof before his very eyes, the necromancer remained alert and ill at ease with Tynan's presence. There was a long moment of silence while they looked each other over, each soaking up every last line, freckle and shape they shared. The boy would have the rest of his life to think back on his fathers face. Mozenrath would have…

…no. Best not to think of that now. The uncomfortable sensation in his neck became stifling.

"Do you…need anything?" Tynan asked in a hidden voice, one that betrayed nothing of his state of mind. "Food, water…"

Mozenrath scoffed and rolled his head back. "It takes a bit more than that to make a man comfortable on the night before his beheading. Hopefully that's something you'll never learn firsthand." He moved a little, feeling along the bonds for something to release the pressure with and sagged back down when he found nothing. "So…Tianin."

"Tye nan." The boy pronounced it correctly. "The Gaelic sounding if you please."

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "That's not what I told her to name you." Too late he caught his mistake and bit his lip. But his son was too clever to miss it.

"You knew?" Tynan confronted the much taller man and pulled him down by his mantle. "You knew my mother was pregnant and you left any way? Why?" He demanded, voice raising. "Why did you leave her to face the shame alone?" His cheeks were reddened and his teeth gleamed like fangs. The pain in his right hand grew and the torches burned with fierce light.

The effect did not go unnoticed by either Mozenrath or Aladdin. The hero turned to look inside, but could see nothing beyond the kid man handling his own father. For a moment he considered stopping the interaction, but then let it go. He was just a kid with questions. And this was the only time left to answer them.

His father gave a low, impressed humm. "Tynan." He said, stressing the syllables with perfect accent and pronunciation. He gave the child a long look and then turned away, talking softly. "I was unwelcome among the Erie people." He managed to flip back his hair out of his face. "They seemed to think my brand of magic was a dark, unnatural thing and rejected me."

"What were you doing in Erie holdings in the first place?"

"It's midnight already." Mozenrath played at ignoring the question. "Perhaps you should stick to asking more important things."

Tynan sneered but a quested. "Fine. How about this then?" he unraveled his hand, letting the digits glow silver in the star light. "No other man in the world has a hand like this…" he said and look at his fathers matching appendage. "How did you come by it?"

"My glove." Mozenrath answered. "I traded my flesh for the power encased in the gauntlet."

"Why?" The voice sounded horrified.

"I could not accomplish something without the gauntlet's aid." He tilted his head, considering the pre teen fingers that would never know skin or flesh. "I did not know it would pass on." He sounded, for a brief moment, almost apologetic. But then his tone switched to the veiled egotism he always toted. "So…who was your mother?"

Tynan glared at him with loathing in his gray green eyes. "Do not lie to me. Don't make to mock me." His voice deepened to a man's pitch, hatefully edged at Mozenrath.

The necromancer chuckled and shook his head and shrugged. "Child, you can not expect me to remember a flower I plucked thirteen years ago. You're my son, that undeniable, but that doesn't mean your mother was all together special."

Tynan felt cold heat spread over his body. The bars on the cell door and the manacles around Mozenrath's wrists began to burn. "Your lying!" he accused. "Be cruel if you want to but do not pretend you don't remember her. You even described my lands so don't pretend her face doesn't come to you now!"

"The holding of the Cullen clan were exceptional ground. But then again all of Erin is exceptional. Still…" he sighed. "I don't remember any more than her name."

"Lying bastard!" Tynan rushed forward and delivered a blow across Mozenrath's face with his balled left fist. "Liar! Liar! Liar!" he raged as swung his fist again and again, each time connecting with the older man's jaw line. It wasn't until Aladdin picked Tynan up by the waist and drug him out that he began to scream incoherently at Mozenrath in Gaelic.

Aladdin handed him over to the guards. "Put him in the guest rooms and keep an eye on him." He instructed and turned back to a Mozenrath with a split lip. "Sheesh that kid of yours has really got your temperament." He said and wiped the blood from the man's lip.

"Among other things." Mozenrath said cryptically. "Pity I won't get to see him as a man. He might have able to follow in my footsteps." He grinned up at Aladdin. "Maybe provide some fun for your future generations."

Aladdin managed a sad smile back at him. "Moze…you are such an idiot." He said and began to leave, locking and bolting the door behind him, leaving Mozenrath alone with his thoughts.

The wizard's eyes narrowed. _He underestimates me. _


	5. Loyalty Lies

He had been lying.

He remembered Deirdre.

She was hard to forget.

Jasmine brought the boy up a tray of food and sat with him as he ate. She felt sorry for the boy. To have gone all his life never knowing his father only to discover the man who sired him was…well…Mozenrath. It was funny, but she would not have pictured this well spoken, intelligent, noble child to be from the same blood as that sorcerer. Even now, he seemed quiet, passive, eating a chicken breast and working with his own thoughts.

"Are you going to be alright?" she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I mean…I know this must be hard for you."

"Not really." Tynan said, though a twinge of sadness was reflected in his voice. "I mean, I never got the chance to know him. Perhaps, given what I've seen, it's better this way." He seemed to be considering his own words, trying to convince himself of something. "If I had known the manner of the man, I never would have sought him out." Tynan closed his eyes. "He deserves this fate."

Jasmine frowned and felt her stomach twist. "Maybe he does. But he's still your father. And you said your mother always spoke well of him. Maybe…" she was trying very hard to say something nice. "Maybe there is a side of Mozenrath no one ever got to know. There must have been something of him to love."

"Maybe." Tynan said and drank some of the watered down wine. "She never once spoke ill of him. Not even when she must have realized he was not coming back." He smacked the cup back on the table a little hard. "There must have been something more."

Jasmine looked outside to the balcony, the stars just beginning to dip bellow the horizon. "Do you want to talk with him again? While there is still time?"

Tynan thought for a moment. "Do you think it would do any good?"

"Perhaps. I mean…it's his last chance to…" she tried her best not to say it. Even with his outer defenses up, it was obvious that the child was bothered by the entire situation. Meeting your father just to have him taken away from you. _Not that we have a choice. He's too dangerous to allow to live. Mozenrath must be destroyed. If anything especially now._ Who knew how much harm a man like Mozenrath could inflict on a child's delicate psyche.

The boy seemed lost for a moment, looking up into the sky as if the answer could be shown to him from there. "Yes. One last chance." Tynan said smoothly. "I guess I owe him that."

Her maternal instinct heated. "Don't think like that. You owe him nothing Tynan." Jasmine said confidently and the youth smiled at her in a friendly manner. "Come on, I'll escort you down to his cell." She stood and helped the young man up, leading him to the doors.

"Wait…" he said softly. "Is…is there another way? I don't like the looks the guards give me when I pass."

Jasmine nodded sympathetically. Of course the child would put the guards on edge. Given that he was Mozenrath son they must half expect the child to jump of his skin and grow bat wings. "There is another way." She said and looked around. This was the visitors quarters. She felt along the base of a pillar. "There should be a switch here…" a click sounded at a panel swung open, revealing a stair case. "This should take us down to the dungeons. We should be quick though."

"Yes." Tynan said softly as he pressed his fingers to the back of her neck and pinched a nerve. "We should be."

Mozenrath did not dream often. He slept. He had nightmares. But it was very rare that his troubled mind was quieted by the gentle tides of the dream sea. No one could know what he saw, in his own dark world. But if asked, and if he could be forced to be honest…

A pair of hazel eyes, flecked with jade green. Lips that were as brilliant in a smile as a frown. Her voice, her strength, her passion…and yes, yes even her horrible ferocity pushed into his mind.

_Deirdre. _

A sound in the hall woke Mozenrath from his dream and he opened his eyes cautiously, looking towards the window. Not yet sun rise. Perhaps they wanted to end this early. He stiffened, placing a look of confidence on a very unconfident face. If these contestable cows thought to take Mozenrath's head without a fight they were sore mistaken. He would not be lead quietly into that good night!

The sound of a body falling alerted his senses and Mozenrath stiffened, setting his mouth in a detestable scowl. The sound of keys clinking together made him nervous, but he refused to show it. The hinges creaked as the door opened up into the hall, revealing no one at eye level.

Mozenrath looked down.

Tynan looked up, keys in his hand as he gave Mozenrath a top to bottom look. "Come on." He said and tossed the keys into his fathers hands. "We're leaving."

"Sultan!"

Rasoul's cry alerted both sultan and Aladdin, bringing them to the guest suites and an unconscious princess. "Jasmine!" What happened?" he look around the room, eyes landing on a still steaming meal. His face turned angry. "Where is Tynan?"

The burly guard pointed to the open secret door. "He didn't even bother trying to hide. He's as arrogant as his father."

"It would seem so." Said the Sultan with a dark look. "Given his rejection of our hospitality, I'm afraid it puts the child deep into an already precarious position." He turned to Aladdin. "Go after the boy…and Mozenrath. We won't have long before that sorcerer makes some kind of attempt to…"

"No Sultan…" came a sinister voice from the parapet. "You don't have long."

Aladdin pushed the sultan out of the way and took the blast of blue black fire on himself, the wall slamming into his back. His head went dizzy and he just narrowly avoided another blast as it knocked marble across the room. "Rasoul!" he shouted at the captain. "Get Jasmine and the Sultan out of here!"

"Oh no you don't!" Mozenrath laughed and flung his energy at the door, melting the gold handles together and sealing it shut. "I've been waiting a long time for this Aladdin, and I mean to have my vengeance now!" he shouted, raising his gauntlet high.

A hand tugged desperately at his sleeve, throwing off his aim and sending it at the glass chandelier above them. "What are you doing?" Tynan said, eye wide and angry.

Mozenrath glared at the boy and pushed him away, flaring his magic. "This is none of your concern child!" But Tynan was persistent, he stood his ground, hand defensively on the hilt of his sword.

"This isn't why I broke you out! We need to leave now!"

The man lost patience and snapped a bolt of fire at the child, making him leap back against the railing and nearly fall. "We will. I merely need to finish up here." Mozenrath turned his attention back to the heroes. "A wounded Aladdin, fainted Jasmine, the fat old Sultan and his mindless drone of a guard." The sorcerer shook his head. "Such a disappointment. I had actually kind of hoped for a more fitting end for you."

"I'll do my best to please." Aladdin said and forced himself to raise despite injury. He laid his hands on a splintered curtain pole and brandished it at Mozenrath. The necromancer grinned and came forward, gauntlet burning brightly. Aladdin charged, making his aim towards Mozenrath's head as the burning dark fire launched towards him. At the last second he slammed the end into a loose tile and let the tension carry his weight upward. He landed neatly between Mozenrath and the rebuffed Tynan, pressing his toe to the ground and taking off to tackle Mozenrath.

The young wizard turned just a split second too late. Aladdin barreled into him, using his stocky weight to slam Mozenrath into the ground and hold his arms high. "Hah!" Aladdin chuckled in triumph, relishing the look of rage on Mozenrath's face. Nothing made him feel refreshed like goading the man's ego. "A bit more fitting for you Mozenrath?" he said with a rakish smirk.

To his surprise Mozenrath returned the look. "Why yes Aladdin, much better for my reputation when I destroy you!" he grabbed hold of Aladdin's wrist and send a deadly bolt of magic through it, his power searing for the source to kill him.

Aladdin roared as the magic consumed his hand, his arm, his elbow and shoulder, and began to seek out his heart…

Tynan moved, slamming his sword to his father's chest. The blade pressed in just a little, stopping magic before it could cross over onto Aladdin's pectorals. Mozenrath locked eyes with the boy, his angry glare turning into an amused smile. "Now Tynan…" he said tightly. "You really shouldn't stick your nose into adult business."

"And you should know to let well enough alone." Tynan said and point the other sword at Aladdin. "No sir…" he said. Aladdin had reared back his free fist, prepared to knock the attacking sorcerer unconscious. The hero looked at him in surprise, unable to understand how such a young boy could draw a weapon without making a sound. "He may be your enemy, but he's still my father. I can't let you take him to his death."

"Tynan you have to understand…" Aladdin said. "He's hurt people. He's killed people like they were nothing more than animals. If you knew the things he's done…" The blade pushed him away and Mozenrath was forced to loosen his hold, the magic recoiling slowly back to the gauntlet. "We can't let him go Tynan. I'm sorry for what you'll loose, but we can't allow Mozenrath to escape."

"And what does that make me?" Tynan said. "If I just allowed you to behead him with no honor, what kind of person would that make me?" He pushed both his father and his father's enemy away from one another at the point of a blade. "I'm sorry for this…but my own honor allows me no recourse."

To all's shock he gripped the gauntlet and a bright flash blinded the room. Aladdin covered his eyes and pulled back, bringing up his arm in fear of an attack. But as the light died down and the dots stopped spinning in front of his vision, he looked to the spot where father and son had been…

They were gone.

As the portal opened nearly twenty miles from Agrabah, a young body was flung from the hole in space and into the oasis pool. He coughed and sputtered, clutching for his fallen blades as a much taller, darker man came from the hole, his face full of rage.

"You little idiot!" Mozenrath snarled at Tynan, grabbing the child by the front of his collar. "I don't know if you're my son or not, but you certainly have an annoying habit of interference where you're not wanted!" He tossed the youth onto the sands, muttering something about having Aladdin in his sights.

Tynan groaned and clutched his right arm, the horrible feeling intensifying. His breath went ragged for a few moments until he regained control. When he looked up Mozenrath was heading off to the west, away from the rising sun and into the pitch black lands ahead of them. He stumbled to his feet, recovering his swords and went towards Mozenrath.

"Where do you think your going whelp?" Mozenrath snapped as he heard foot steps behind him. He turned over his shoulder, arching a dark brow at Tynan.

"Where else?" the boy snapped back. "I'm hardly with options now." He argued. "I can't go back to Agrabah and their the only port for days in any direction. I can't even go back home yet because…" he froze, tightening his lips and avoiding Mozenrath's eyes. "I can't go home yet." He said again.

Mozenrath rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. "Bury yourself in the sand, join a circus, or go live in a ditch for all I care!" he spun around pointed an accusing finger at Tynan. "Give me one good reason I should allow you anywhere near me or my Citadel!"

Tynan's eyes became hard as rocks, the lines of his face becoming less like a childs and more like a man's. "Because I am your son." He said forcefully.

Mozenrath groaned and began to walk, the sound of a smaller pair of foot steps falling in behind him.

To be Continued…


End file.
